


On The Edge of Darkness

by shakiraslyingthighs



Category: Dumplin' (2018), The Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Bullet, Child Murder, Genderqueer Bullet, Graphic Description of Corpses, HP AU, Hannah and Bullet are the same person, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magical Murder, Multi, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Other, POV Alternating, Serial Killers, all the same feel as the killing, if you're just here from dumplin you should know this is pretty dark, kind of, so if you watched that you should be good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:59:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakiraslyingthighs/pseuds/shakiraslyingthighs
Summary: “Caught a body this morning. Young, homeless kid, dead at the side of the road.” He watches her eyes carefully as she nods. “Skin covered in white scars.”White scars…The most forbidden spell. Avada Kedavra.Killing curse.





	On The Edge of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from - just that I just binge watched the entirety of the Killing and Bullet deserved better. Also been wanting to write something with the Dumplin characters, but I could never figure out the light tone of the movie. So I just took the characters and put them in the Killing.   
> This is an HP au - but only in the sense that magic exists, as do squibs and the terminology of the spells. Imma be real here though: I haven't read Harry Potter since the day the last book came out, so I don't remember much of it, and what I do remember I'm changing a little. In this Avada Kedavra is a much harder spell to cast - one that requires a powerful wizard. Also it leaves the body covered in lightning scars. I don't remember if that's a part of the book or not. But over all magic in this is a little more complicated and not a solve for everything like it was in the books. Magic isn't able to be traced back to the ones who did it like it was in the books either

_ Burning - his lungs heaving as he runs between dark trees. If he just makes it to the road, makes it to the light - don’t look back, don’t slow down, run -  _

 

_ “Come back here!” _

 

_ His legs pick up, faster, desperate, but he’s slowing, he knows he is. It’s dark and wet out and all he can do is run from the voice behind him, run as fast as he can - but that was never that fast to begin with. Hell, before he dropped out nearly a year ago, he was always the slowest in gym class. Legs too little, lungs too weak, just head to the light and maybe -  _

 

_ “Where are you going, little boy?” It’s taunting now. Run, run, just make it to the road, don’t look back, just -  _

 

_ He didn’t see the root sticking up, twisting his ankle and slamming him into the forest floor. He tries, he scrambles, but he’s sobbing now, can’t see can’t run. _

 

_ A muttered curse, a flash of green. Empty. _

 

-

 

“So it’s dressed blues, extra starched, white gloves, spit shined, the whole nine.”

 

Holder pulls up the collar of his coat against the morning drizzle, barely listening to his partner over the chatter of the radio and the muttering of the beat cops guarding the crime scene. 

 

“Knock knock, she opens the door - nothin’ on but the radio.”

 

“Talk or Kube 93?” He carefully picks his way from the road down to the yellow tape in the woods, doing his best to keep mud off his kicks. 

 

“I haven’t even touched her yet and it’s already niagara falls. Had to break some laws.”

 

“Well at least in a couple months, that foot of glass between you won't affect your chemistry.” He grabs the carton of milk out of Riddick’s hand and chuckles at his own joke. Jiggling the carton, he nods towards it. “Get those nutrients you need, leave the cholesterol in the cow.”

 

“Your mom breast feed you until puberty or somethin’?” Riddick follows as they duck under the yellow tape. Holder laughs, taking a swig and turning towards the cop hunched in his raincoat. “What up, Malloy? What’du’ya got?”

 

“John Doe. A hiker found him a couple hours ago - tripped over the garbage bag covering him, thought it was just a bear bag ‘till he opened it.”

 

“The coroner’s en route?” Holder asks, moving to kneel by the bag, the plastic ripped open enough to reveal the top half of the body.

 

“Yup.”

 

_ Here we go. _

 

“Yup?” His partner asks, irritation in his voice. “Just ‘yup’? It’s ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’! I mean, seriously, are you an idiot?”

 

Tuning him out, Holder runs an eye over the body. The trees here are thick enough to both muffle and echo their voices, and the rain dripping through their leaves makes fat drops hit the body hard. 

 

He’s young - can’t be more than thirteen, clothes tattered and unwashed. The body is laid out flat on its back. His mouth is open. The rain filled it, running in rivlets from the corners of his mouth and into wide eyes. But it’s his skin that catches Holder’s attention.

 

“Damn.” His partner comes to stand by him. “Never seen that before.”

 

The skin is broken up by jagged white scars - ropy and random, cutting across his face like black lines through marble. The scars trail up into his hairline and down below the collar of his hoodie. Leaning closer, Holder can see them covering the boy’s hands as well. 

 

“Fuck,” Holder mutters. He’s heard of this before, but never seen it in real life. The most forbidden spell.  _ Avada Kedavra _ .

 

Killing curse. 

 

-

 

From the bridge you can see the whole river. Kallie leans over to watch as the water rushes past - dark turquoise under the cloudy sky. It finally stopped raining but the concrete of the railing is still slightly slippery as she clambers over it. 

  
Her mother used to bring her here.

 

A seagull glides beneath her feet, bringing a soft smile to her face at its lazy circles. If she keeps her eyes on the river, she can pretend the ugliness of the city doesn’t exist. It’s washed away from her mind. So clean here, so perfect. She leans forward for a better look and - 

 

And strong arms wrap around her middle, dragging her back off the railing and dumping her onto the sidewalk. Bullet.

 

“What the hell is  _ wrong _ with you, you  _ stupid  _ crazy bitch! What’re you  _ doing _ ?!”

 

“I’m not doing anything, God Bullet!” She throws up her arms as Bullet rolls their eyes and sighs angrily. “I wasn’t gonna jump, okay? I just wanted to look at the water.”

 

Bullet scoffs. They’re bundled in their thick blue hoodie, black hat on under it hiding their short hair and pierced ears. It makes them look bigger than they actually are. Kallie knows them - knows their irritated huffs and angry pacing is hiding fear, so she tugs their arm towards the railing. 

 

“C’mere - come here, look at it.” She leans over the railing to point down at the river, encouraging Bullet to look with her. “Look: before the boats and garbage and people and stuff mess it up, it’s so smooth and clean, y’know? Like glass. Perfect.”

 

But Bullet isn’t convinced, irritated energy still rolling off them as they turn away. 

 

“I just wanted to look at it,” Kallie insists, trying to placate them. They give a heavy sigh but are calming.

  
“You crazy bitch,” They grumble. Kallie smiles, reaching over to shove them playfully. They roll their eyes, but shove her back, the motion the two friends’ way of letting the other know they’re alright. Bullet settles, folding their arms on the railing and leaning their chin on it, begrudgingly looking down at the water. Kallie leans her shoulder against theirs. 

 

“Cops ran us out from under the bridge.”

 

“Yeah. Douchebags kicked us out of the park this morning. Some sorta ‘citywide sweep’.” Bullet rolls their eyes again. “Ugh whatever, eat me.”

 

Kallie nods - it’s fucking stupid.

 

“You know… Maybe we can get beds at Beacon?”

 

Beacon - Pastor Mike’s youth shelter, where beds come with forced prayers but clean clothes.

 

“Whatever. I’m not sure I’m ready to ‘accept Jesus as my Lord’.” She shrugs. “They’ve never got open beds anyways.”

 

“Yeah, well, ‘least they got eggs and bacon on the menu today.” Bullet stretches casually, but Kallie knows they’re trying to convince her to get off the bridge, still a little nervous while she’s up here. “You hungry?”

 

“I hate bacon,” Kallie makes a face at the thought.

 

“Oh dude quit  _ tripping _ . Come on, I’m starvin’.” They’re practically whining, bouncing on their feet and making Kallie swallow a laugh. “Look, we’ll find a place to squat. It’s still early. Let’s go.”

 

Tugging on her elbow, Bullet leads her away from the peace of the bridge, linking their arms to try and make her smile. Bullet is sweet. Well, actually, they’re rough and rowdy, covered in piercings, glares at strangers, talks back to cops, and has a vocabulary uglier and more creative than a sailor. But they’re one of the few people Kallie considers a true friend. One of the few all the young kids on the street can trust. 

 

Bullet just _ takes care _ of them all, doing their best to protect the girls on Skid Row and keeping track of the young ones as much as they can. Their ‘sticky fingers’ provide the occasional candybar or packet of cigarettes. And when they hang out with Kallie, they do their best to make her laugh.

 

Kallie never says it because Bullet would make fun of her, but she can’t imagine trying to live without their rough little light against the rest of Seattle’s underbelly.

 

Wandering down the street towards Beacon, Bullet takes their hat off, putting down their hood and looking years younger in their shaved head and ears that stick out a little. Pretty soon Kallie notices them fiddling with something. 

 

“What’s that?” Looking closer, it’s some sort of silver butterfly pendant with a pretty pink rock in the middle. “You jack that too?”

 

“Yeah.” Bullet gives a sheepish smile. “Millie was telling me about this butterfly necklace her mom used to wear. She would always ask her mom to let her wear it, but…” They shrug, gesturing with the pendant. “I figure, it’s a butterfly.”

 

Kallie kicks an empty can out of the sidewalk, nudging Bullet with a slightly teasing tone.

 

“So you gonna give it to her?” 

 

Bullet’s ears go red, ducking their head at the thought. “I dunno.”

 

“You should!” Kallie grins, shoving Bullet when they blush. “You  _ love  _ her! Look at you!”

 

“Shut up, shut up!” They point at her, trying to get her to stop teasing. “No!”

 

“Alright, whatever.” Kallie holds up her hands in mock surrender. “C’mere, let me see it.”

 

“Why?” They glare at her suspiciously. Kallie rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. 

 

“Oh come on Bullet, I just want to see it.” Bullet hands it over - up close it’s really pretty. There’s no chain to it, but it has a loop for one that’d let it hang from a necklace. The butterfly is about the size of a Reese’s cup. Its little pink rock in the middle is smooth and opaque, the color of Pepto Bismol. “It’s pretty.” Turning to Bullet and sticking her tongue out, she pitches her voice high and teasing. “Oh  _ Bullet _ ! I  _ looove you _ !”

 

“Man, shut the fuck up,” They grumble. But they pull out their phone, taking a photo of Kallie grinning and holding up the pendant. “C’mon, stand still. You’re an idiot.”

 

-

 

Across a large river there’s an island the muggles can only access via ferry. The woods are thick here, and there isn’t a building that rises higher than the treetops. Mist clings to the ground far into the day. Here the air smells like pine needles and mulch, here you can hear the birds chirp, here you can mind your own business.

 

On a farm deep in the island is a little white house with blue trim. Inside the floors are wood, the wallpaper a quaint flower pattern. The whole house is  _ cozy _ \- a wooden dining room table nestled in the corner next to a small kitchen with large windows over the sink. It’s a quiet house, and the witch who lives in it likes it that way.

 

At least, Linden tells herself that.

 

She’s upstairs when a familiar crack sounds on her porch, right before the sound of knocking on the door. As she heads for it, she can see a tall figure on the other side and knows someone’s died. 

 

“What up Linden?” Her occasional partner gives a warm smile as she leads him towards the kitchen. It’s odd that such a handsome and open face always brings her bad news. She flicks her wand at the kettle on the counter, bringing the water to a boil within a few seconds while she pulls her long hair into a twist to keep it out of her face. “Nice suit by the way.”

 

“You know how we do.” Holder smirks, tugging at his jacket with false arrogance. Linden just shakes her head, pouring the hot water into a teapot and pulling out two mugs. With another wave of her wand, the teapot and two mugs float behind her as she heads to the table. “How’ve you been? It’s been a little over a year now, hasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah. Been battin’ a thousand. Me and my partner, seven outta seven solves. Been climbing the P.D. foodchain, politically speaking, y’know? Pretty good for a first year together.”

 

“Sounds like you’re doing great!” She smiles, pouring the tea. He shrugs and pulls out a chair.

 

“You know, it’s Joaquim shootin’ Rakim whatever, but it is what it is.”

 

A whisper behind them makes Holder turn.  _ Oh great _ .

 

“Oh, um, Cody this is Holder. We sometimes work together.” She gestures between them, trying to hide her reluctance for them to meet. “And Holder, this is Cody. He works at the local ministry office.” 

 

“Well how do you do?” Holder steps forward and slaps his hand into a handshake. Cody grins, motioning towards the door.

 

“I was just heading out.” 

 

“Okay,” she says, doing her best to dismiss him without seeming rude. “I’ll call you later.”

 

“See you Sarah.” Cody turns, apparating out of the house with a crack. 

 

The second he’s gone Holder turns to her with a cheshire cat grin. “Ain’t that sweet! Linden’s datin’!”

 

“I’m not dating,” She says, rolling her eyes at his laugh.

 

“Booty callin’ then. Dial 1-900-LINDEN?” He sits back down, grin never faltering. “Is he one of Jack’s friends, then?”

 

“Oh, hah hah,” She scoffs.

 

“Oh no - I’m not judgin’. I mean that - that’s just  _ sexy _ you know? How’d that play out? He come knockin’ on the door and - and you open up in your sexy lingerie?”

 

“You’re not funny.”

 

“And he’s like ‘is Jack home?’ ‘no, no Jack is out playing, but, come inside and wait’.”

 

“Blah, blah, blah.” She’s holding back a laugh though. Even after all this time, Holder’s laugh and swagger is still infectious. “So why are you here?”

 

Instantly his tone goes into work mode, leaning forward and handing her a thin brown file. 

 

“Caught a body this morning. Young, homeless kid, dead at the side of the road.” He watches her eyes carefully as she nods. “Skin covered in white scars.”

 

White scars… 

 

“Killing curse?” She asks even though she knows the answer. If it were anything natural he wouldn’t be here. He nods anyway, sliding the file closer to her. Opening it, she’s struck by how young the body is, scared eyes still open in the crime scene photographs. She remembers when Jack was that age. “What’d your partner say?”

 

“Somethin’ about ‘guess you’ll be busy with that redhead chick’. After last time, he seems to know anything weird comes through and he switches partners for a while.” 

 

Yes, last time. The love potion poisonings. That was street kids too - a lowlife wizard trolling Skid Row leaving dead girls in his wake. Seattle is a hot spot for mid to low class wizards to settle in, living mostly as muggles outside their own homes. It’s also a hot spot for homeless magic kids, either kicked out of the magic schools or dropouts for various reasons. Hell, a lot of them are siblings to squibs thrown out as soon as their families realized their non magical status. And all of them easy targets to magic related crimes.

 

But a killing curse… 

 

That’s a high crime - in fact, it’s a spell not even officially taught to anyone but Aurors, and that’s just in order to teach them how to shield from it. It’s not just uttering the words. That dark a magic requires an unusual force of will and the strength to force another life to end. Most wizards murder one another with something like poison. Or a knife.

 

“Any idea this kid’s magic status?”

 

“Nah. Don’t even have an i.d. on the body yet.” Holder shrugs, watching as she reads over the file. It’s bare bones - physical description, location of the crime scene, list of everything on his person. “Did you do a scrape under his nails, along his teeth?”

 

Holder nods. “Teeth are clean for spell residue. Nails not so much but it’s all dirt - he’d been scratching at the ground, maybe trying to get away.” 

 

“...With a killing curse, we’re talking about a strong wizard here. One who could easily bury or burn him. So why wrap up the body where someone could find it?”

 

“That’s the question, isn’t it.”

 

Staring down at the photo, taking in the horrifying scars along the boy’s skin, Linden can’t help resigning herself to a long and emotionally draining case. And something tells her this won’t be the only body.

 

“Give me an hour to pack.”

 

-

 

“We have three beds available tonight - three beds! Make sure you got your tickets kids.”

 

Bullet fiddles with their red ticket, running the laminated edge along the table to make a pleasing noise. Next to them, Kallie is picking at the remains of her plate - the few little bits of bacon that Bullet hadn’t stolen yet. They made sure to slip a snickers in Kallie’s backpack while she went to the bathroom though, so they figure it’s fair. She won’t eat the bacon anyway. A flash of long black hair on their other side makes them look up.

 

“Hey, El.” Kallie smiles, tossing her the last piece of bacon and laughing at Bullet’s wounded look. “You and Will flopping at the hotel tonight?”

 

“Yeah - Bo’s staying at his cousin’s so it’ll just be us.”

 

“So it’ll be another of your lame ass Dolly Parton Parties, huh?” Bullet says, purposefully drawling their sentence in an exaggerated version of El’s southern accent. She sticks her tongue out at them, but can’t hold back a smile when they waggle their eyebrows. 

 

“You’re an idiot, B.” El shakes her head, turning back to Kallie. “Since  _ you _ didn’t make fun,” she starts, nudging Bullet playfully, “You can stay with us if you don’t get a bed here.” 

 

“Yeah?” Kallie smiles gratefully. Bullet knows she was not looking forward to another night out, and her mom sucks so home is out. 

 

“Yeah! Don’t even worry about it - Will’ll be glad to see you anyway.” 

 

“Can I get your attention!” Pastor Mike’s voice calls out from the head of the room. “Hey! Eyes up front: Anybody see Danny? Unless someone has, I’m gonna have to give up his bunk to someone else tonight. No?”

 

Bullet starts to fiddle with the pendant again. It’s smooth, the rounded wings feel good against their thumb. They smile to themself at the thought of Millie’s reaction to it - that is, if they ever actually get the nerve to give it to her. She’s working tomorrow. Will and El will probably want to see her anyway, Bullet might try then. 

 

“All right, we got four empty beds tonight - let’s find out who are the lucky winners!” Pastor Mike holds up the red tin, shaking it as one of the volunteers reaches in. Bullet fiddles with their ticket again as he starts to call out the numbers. “Alright, I got number five… number twenty-two… number seven… and lucky number thirteen!”

 

“That’s me Pastor Mike!” Bullet raises the ticket in their hand.

 

“Looks like you’re in for the night, Bullet.” He nods at them. “In the meantime, all those of you living off the land tonight, our thoughts and prayers are with you…”

 

Bullet tunes him out as Kallie and El stand, gathering their things. 

 

“See you tomorrow, B. C’mon Kallie, let’s go.” 

 

Standing up, Kallie gives Bullet a shoving fist bump, making both of them grin, before she links arms with El. The two girls wave at Bullet, joining the crowd of teens heading towards the door. 

 

“I’ll see you all tomorrow. God Bless.”

 

-

 

_ Cold eyes follow the teens heading into the night. Watches them closely as they break off into groups, picking different directions and walking away. _

 

_ There - that’s the one. Pull the car around, follow at a distance. Wait until she’s alone. Roll down the window, hide a feral smile when she gets in.  _

 

_ Time to go to work. _

**Author's Note:**

> So if this isn't clear: Holder is a wizard who works in the Seattle PD as a homicide detective, normally working regular cases. But when a magic related one comes up he contacts Linden. She's an auror (if I remember correctly they're like wizard cops? idk), working through the american branch of the ministry to help solve magic crimes.. They've worked together before, most recently on a case involving love potion murders. Bullet is a squib, Kallie and El are witches, but don't use magic much. Bullet knows Holder already - they helped Holder solve the love potion case, so they get along okay. A lot of this will follow the format of season 3 of the Killing, but hopefully it differs enough you'll still wonder who/why the killings take place.  
> Think that's all you need to know - if anything else confuses you, just leave a comment and I'll clear it up.  
> I can't promise I'll update regularly. Hell, tbh I can't totally promise to finish this. But I have the entire fic outlined and wrote most of the first three chapters already, so there you go.


End file.
